Mixed Tape
by ponderer
Summary: The sad beat of the bass matches your heart, and a place in your stomach feels queasy at the prospect of the happy." DASEY


TITLE: Mixed Tape

AUTHOR: soquitelovely

SUMMARY: DASEY "The sad beat of the bass matches your heart, and a place in your stomach feels queasy at the prospect of the happy."

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing. I simply compiled a list of songs by amazing artists and used the characters to do as I say. Enjoy!

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Okay, so first off, I want to thank everyone for reading and reviewing 'Words'. Looking back, it's honestly one of the best pieces I've ever done in any genre and I'm so unbelievably proud of it and it feels so good to be critiqued on it to make it better. So, thank you faithful readers. As for this piece, I was inspired by the music because it inspires me everyday. I figured that because of this, that maybe our little Der Bear loves it just as much as I do, so what better way to express his feelings? Again, thank you for reading and please, review review review!

--

_And this is my mixed tape for her_

_It's like I wrote every note with my own fingers_

"Mixed Tape" – Jack's Mannequin

--

Music pretty much depicts your life. Like any other normal teenager, you listen to what's popular on the radio; even if it's poppy and unoriginal. You let the Mouseketeer's voice wash over you in the car, or with your headphones trapping your ears from the outside world, and for once, allow yourself to be apart of the surrounding culture of teenage girls everywhere. This is the only time that you give in to temptations such as these, the kind that you don't want others to know about, especially your family and team and specifically her. So, quietly and alone, you listen to the melody repeat over and over again and even though you feel that the syrup will ruin your ear drums, you hit the repeat button because it does have a good message after all.

You make it your mission to find new bands that no one has heard of, get every piece of knowledge about them, every word of every song, where they got together, the ages of all of the members, so that just in case someone asks, you'll know. You'll allow the words of wisdom come off your tongue like you never even thought about it. That's what you like about these bands too, that no one likes them because they're undiscovered. It's new territory. The lyrics are deep, yet simple. It takes a great understanding and small fan base for the words to work, because once the general public gets a glimpse, you'll lose them forever. Your favorite band, which has been tied with The Shins for over two years running, is Death Cab For Cutie. Their lyrics are powerful and haunting and you hurt everytime you hear "The Sound of Settling" and when their new album comes out, you let Ben Gibbard's sorrowful voice wash over you, the eight minute song chimes into your brain and you claim to feel it deep in your toes. It's probably one of the best songs they've ever written, and you're totally stoked for the upcoming tour, but you know that the classic songs will be more prominent. Even though things are evolving, no one likes change; even if it's for the better.

Music is the only thing in your life that has an explanation for everything. For every action, there is a reaction. For every sad song, there is a happy one. Musicians balance everything out, whether it's logical or not, you can find a depressing song matching a love song. The best songs, you think, are the ones that come along that hold a combination of both. Kind of like "Bittersweet Symphony" because it's beautiful with its sad beat and emo-like lyrics, but it makes it that much better. These are the songs that can make you feel multiple emotions at once, and you think that these musicians are what music was created for. To have words to powerful that they emit feelings through the microphones, wires, speakers, and into your ears. The sad beat of the bass matches your heart, and a place in your stomach feels queasy at the prospect of the happy.

You like the fact that no matter what mood you're in, you can find a song that fits perfectly. Like, when you have a bad practice and you really would love nothing more than to push all of your gear out of the window, you instead listen to harsh beats and turn it up so loud that you feel the music everywhere, in your bones, to your nerves, to every particle in your being. You let it all cool you down because you know, somewhere out there, someone was feeling just like you. You even let yourself listen to Queen's "We Are the Champions" because although you're feeling down, you know you have to believe in yourself. Even if music is the only way to express it.

Mostly, you love music because it allows you to think things that you shouldn't. While listening, you don't have to say anything to anyone and can allow yourself to think. Songs about girls that got away, or unrequited love, or even the ones where she's no good for you, but she comes to you anyways. There are songs for everything, you think, while searching through your list and finding something for every situation. You love it especially, when you're driving the car and it's late and you're upset, or happy, and the song playing reaches out to you on the darkened road and you think, wow, this song was meant for me.

Another great thing about music is that, well, it can sometimes speak louder than words. Because of everything put together, you can simply send a song someone's way, place it your away message, add it as your favorite song, and everyone will understand the emotion you're feeling, what you're trying to say without really trying to. It is the easiest and hardest thing to do, because sometimes, the lyrics can come across different than you think. It's a lot like poetry and it can hold different meanings for different people. It's really a complicated process and it's really scary, and really, you just want to be heard without being heard. Because, let's face it, you've never really been too good with words on your own.

--

You hear her in the room next to yours, Christina Aguilera belting out her latest hit, something about being hurt by somebody and you cringe. True, she's a great artist, but is that all Casey listens to anymore? You always thought that maybe she'd have decent taste in music because she's an artist, dancer, writer, what have you, and really, all she listens to is this chick music. She's supposed to be deep too, right? With all of that feminist talk and meaningful talks she has about broken hearts and problematic relationships that were doomed to fail, you'd think that the music she would listen to would reflect that. However, when she's upset, she listens to sad music, or Alanis (who you can appreciate from time to time because Dave Coulier had it coming after all) and when she's happy, it's some lame music you've never heard of but know that twelve year old girls listen to. She will change it up though when she has to, especially when she has a recital coming up or a musical. She'll listen to those songs over and over again until you can sing them along silently with her through the wall. You can anticipate when her voice will reach a certain spot and she'll stop because she can't quite figure out what's wrong (she's a second early everytime, you think) and she'll start over. It takes her forever to accomplish something, even the most simple move, because she's a perfectionist.

So, it's a complete surprise when one day she enters your room and starts looking at your collection of music. "Is this any good?" she asks every so often, usually only looking at the covers of the albums, not the titles.

"Why would I have it if it wasn't good?" is your reply until you give up and let her eyes wander through the rows of CDs, and you let your eyes wander over her. You stay seated at your computer, peaking your eyes over the brim of the computer. She's noticed that they are in alphabetical order by now, and her index finger brushes along the plastic covers, her eyes skimming over every title. When she sees one that catches her fancy, she pulls it out slightly to not lose its place. Twenty minutes later (actually, eighteen and a half you calculate) she gets up from her squatting position empty handed.

"I don't even know where to begin," she says, coming over to you and you let your gaze meet hers.

"It is a pretty hefty load for someone who has no idea about good music," you rasp out, reclining back in your chair. Her eyes squint slightly and you think she's going to retort and flounce away, like she always does.

"Well, help me. Make me a mix to start me off. Maybe I'll like something," she says instead and you are silent for a minute.

"Could be hard, I really don't own any chick tunes. It's indie and classic here, sorry."

"I trust you," she smiles, and it's not sarcastic, it's honest and it's obvious she means it. Trust? That isn't something you've ever really associated with many people except for family and the closest of friends. But really, she is family, sort of, but you like to pretend you're not, more of a friend basis because you really shouldn't feel the way you do about her if she was family.

"Okay," you say finally, and it's enough for her because she nods and turns and with a soft click, all that's left of her is the soft scent of her perfume and suddenly a million songs are running through your head and you don't know where to begin.

The next few days are filled with research. You take note of what songs she likes, bands she mentions in conversation, tunes she hums the most to in the car. You watch the way her hands tap on her knees to songs that have light piano accent, and her feet dance along with a mixing melody, and how her head sways to a soft song and complicated lyrics.

"Are you done yet?" she asks three days later, and you look up from your computer, three different lyric websites up and running to find the perfect songs for her.

"Almost," you say and look back down. You notice her shadow lingers a bit in the doorway, but when you glance up again, she's gone.

You notice that she comes around to your room more often and her eyes take in the posters on your walls. She begins asking questions about concerts and performances you've been in and you're patient and answer everything honestly and you can't remember ever having conversations with her this serious without being serious. You find yourself joking around with her like normal people and you can see that it's even affecting her behavior too. She's much more relaxed and only exclaims your name in despair once when you claim that her taste in music was going nowhere until you came along (but even then, she was smiling).

She asks you to turn up some songs that she likes the beat of, so you let the guitar and drums overflow the room. In the car, she does the same thing, but wants it up so loud that you can't even think but she lets out a silent scream that you wish you could hear and she grins so widely and closes her eyes and just looses herself.

Finally, one week and two days after she'd asked for a mixed tape, you hand her one, one that you remade four times in the past three days because it had to be just right with a balance of good and bad so she could get a wide range. You also had to be careful to send a message but not so deep she couldn't understand but not too easy either because she was smart after all. You handed it over to her while you passed her in the hallway before you went into the bathroom. She looked down at the cover and smiled again, more shyly this time, because it was more personal, a gift from you (something that never really happened without having to) and she knew it. She'd said she trusted you. So, in turn, you need to trust her.

It took two days for her to come back. It had been the longest two days because she didn't come in to your room like she had for the past week. You'd paced and re-listened to the soundtrack and tried to think of anything else but the message you had tried to convey, in her terms, and began to panic. What if she didn't like it? What if she thought that it would be a better gift for another girl, at another time? You fretted, and you never fretted, but you did anyway until she came back.

She walked into your room and sat calmly on your bed. You watched her impatiently and waited for a response, anything, because honestly, she has to know. Because it's her. "I listened to it ten times through. The first time I was blown away because I was confused. Then I listened again, and then again, and finally, on the ninth time, I understood."

"Why the tenth time then?" you croak, as she stands and walks to you where you sit at your computer. She comes and stands a foot away, her mixed tape clutched in her hand. Her eyes are bright.

"Because I had to be sure it was what you really meant. Did you put these songs on there because you knew I would like them or were they there because you needed to tell me something?"

You reach up and cup her cheek and she doesn't flinch and when you move closer to her and feel her breath on your face and she doesn't move and when your lips meet hers she kisses back and her hands come up to your shoulders and you feel the CD pressing there. It goes on for a minute and you hear the music behind you, a soft melody of something happy (a sweet temptation you couldn't avoid) and feel her fingers brushing through your hair, the CD splayed on the floor, forgotten.

Finally, seconds, (minutes, hours) go by and you're not sure what's happening anymore but she's grinning and shifting through your list on the computer and a song filters through your stereo and you grin back. She gets it.

Casey's Song:

_When you feel embarrassed then I'll be your pride_

_When you need directions then I'll be the guide_

_For all time. _

_For all time._

"Passenger Seat" – Death Cab for Cutie

Derek's Mixed Tape: 

_Here is the song we wrote about you_

_Here is the song that you can sing-along to_

_Up until you now you've only listened_

_So keep listenin and start singin'_

"The Forward" – Between the Trees

--

_You've got no choice, babe_

_But to move on and you know_

_There ain't no time to waste,_

_So you're just too blind to see_

_But in the end you know it's gonna be me_

_You can't deny_

_So just tell me why_

"It's Gonna Be Me" - NSYNC

--

_You reject my advances and desperate pleas._

_I won't let you, let me down so easily, so easily._

"I Will Possess Your Heart" – Death Cab for Cutie

--

_I'm gonna close my mouth now, _

_you don't need more noise in your life._

"Basement Ghost Singing" – Armor for Sleep

--

_So let mercy come_

_And wash away_

_What I've done_

"What I've Done" – Linkin Park

--

_Every page I tried my best to fill with something to contest; _

_With inside jokes and other folks who've got much more to say. _

_I'll give you all I can, _

_A flower and a hand. _

_I hope this helps you see. _

_Signed, sincerely me._

"Dear Jamie… Sincerely Me" – HelloGoodbye

--

_Sing me something soft,  
Sad and delicate,  
Or loud and out of key,  
Sing me anything._

"Existentialism on Prom Night" – Straylight Run

--

_I'd go the whole wide world  
I'd go the whole wide world  
Just to find her_

"Whole Wide World" – Wreckless Eric

--

_I kissed your throat every time they said it wouldn't last_

_But then I knew you, I knew you, I knew you,_

_I really knew you_

"What I'm Trying to Say" -- Stars

--

_Here I am expecting just a little bit_

_Too much from the wounded_

_But I see,_

_See through it all,_

_See through,_

_And see you._

"3 Libras" – A Perfect Circle

--

_Lucked out and found my favorite records_

_Lying in wait at the birmingham mall._

_The songs that i heard,_

_The occasional book_

_Were the only fun i ever took._

_And i got on with making myself._

_The trick is just making yourself._

"Know Your Onion!" – The Shins

--

_Now this slick fallen rift, came like a gift_

_Your body moves ever nearer_

_And you will dry this tear_

_Now that we're here, and grieve for me, not history_

_But now I'm dry of thoughts, wait for the rain_

_Then it's replaced, sun setting_

_And suddenly we're in love with everything_

"The Shining" – Badly Drawn Boy

--

_I'm gonna stay eighteen forever (cut me open) _

_So we can stay like this forever (sun poisoned) _

_And we'll never miss a party (this offer...)_

_cause we keep them going constantly (...stands forever)_

_And we'll never have to listen (new haircut) _

_to anyone about anything (new bracelet) _

_cause it's all been done and it's all been said (eyeliner) _

_we're the coolest kids and we take what we can get (wait forever)_

"Soco Amaretto Lime" – Brand New

--

_What can I compare you to, a window the sun shines through? _

_Maybe the silver moon, a smile rising_

_The magic of the fading day, satellites on parade_

_A toast to the plans we've made to live like kings._

"Take It From Me" – The Weepies

--

_Where are you now?_

_As I rearrange the songs again_

_This mix could burn a hole in anyone_

_But it was you I was thinking of_

"Mixed Tape" – Jack's Mannequin


End file.
